"Cold men destroy women...they woo them with something personable that they bring out for show, something annexed to their souls like a fake greenhouse, lead you in, and you think you see life and vitality and greenness, and then when you love them, they lead you out into their real soul, a drafty, cavernous, empty ballroom, inexorably arched and vaulted and mocking you with its echos--you hear all you have sacrificed, all you have given landing with a loud clunk. They lock the greenhouse and you are as tiny as a figure in an architects drawing, a faceless splotch, a blur of stick limbs abandoned in some voluminous desert of stone."